Hermione Granger Disrobed
by slipper balloon
Summary: This is my take on the disrobe seduction scene, and it is neither sexy nor romantic. Don't hate me. I'm working on Potions, promise. Look for update in a few weeks.


Author's note: After reading one too many disrobing seduction scenes, I felt the need to generate this version.

WARNING: This is not romantic. It's not sexy. I'm working through my own issues here. Read at your own risk.

"Enter."

"Professor Snape, I just wanted to, er, say goodbye."

"Well? Go on, then. Ah. A bit tongue-tied, are we? Perhaps if I initiate the exchange? Goodbye, Miss Granger. Have a nice life. Or, on second thought, do not. It matters little to me. Now if you'll excuse me, I do have some end-of-the-year paperwork to complete."

"Sorry, sir. Goodbye, sir."

"Miss Granger? You are still standing in my doorway."

"Does my presence make you anxious, sir?"

"I am anxious by nature, you annoying little twit. What you are sensing is supreme annoyance. Please leave my office."

"Would it make you feel better if I closed the door, sir?"

"Miss Granger! I do not have time for games! Please open that door and leave at once. I have wished you well in your future endeavors with all the sincerity of which I'm capable, and I have nothing else to offer in the way of – what in Merlin's name are you doing? Please cover that ridiculous outfit at once, Miss Granger. At once! Before I am plagued with nightmares worse than perpetual disembowelment by the entire Malfoy line. Cover yourself! Miss Granger, what on earth has gotten into you? That's much better. All the way, if you please. Oh, thank Merlin, you are still a sensible girl underneath all that – well, there wasn't much really much of that lace, was there? I suppose demanding an explanation would be redundant. Your intentions were Gryffindor obvious. What's that? I can't hear you."

"S-sorry, sir."

"Let me guess. You've been harboring a crush on your potions master for all of seventh year. What was it that attracted you, I wonder? My immaculate good looks? My many charms? The sensuous way I handle a stirring rod? The smell of gutted creature and fuel ash that clings to my person? Speak up, girl. Enunciate. Pretend you are answering a question in class."

"A hero, sir. You're a hero."

"Don't be ridiculous, Miss Granger. I was playing both sides, and everyone knows it. You may be insufferable, but you are certainly not a simpleton. Why _are _you here? Hm? You don't know yourself, do you? Let me ask you a question. What is the strongest feeling you are experiencing right now? Heartbreak? Humiliation? Or relief? Excellent bovine imitation, Miss Granger. I do so love to witness the Granger brain in action. You see, you are feeling, above all, relief. I see it in your face. Surprise. You didn't want to sleep with your greasy potions professor after all."

"But – "

"But why are you here, then? That is the question. Have a seat, Miss Granger. I am not well equipped for entertaining, but even I can procure a cup of tea on occasion. No, no. It's no trouble. The water is already hot."

"Thank you."

"Don't scald yourself. It's very hot. Feeling a bit steadier, then? It is surprising to you, isn't it, that I did not instantly cave into my baser instincts at the sight of some young flesh. No, no, don't equivocate. Your actions have already revealed your assumptions. I should be insulted."

"I – meant no insult, sir."

"That's clear. If you had adequately thought your actions through, you would not be here. I will tell you something, Miss Granger. It may not make you feel better, but it may make you wiser. Why I should feel any compulsion to make you wiser at this point is a mystery. Perhaps I am merely attempting to ensure that this scene does not repeat itself.

"Here is my story. Listen closely. Every several years since I began teaching at Hogwarts, after the Leaving Feast, a student finds the courage to approach me. Oh, most of them are more subtle than you were today, but it's always the same thing, in essence – some kind of sexual overture. It puzzled me for a long time, and I am not easily puzzled, as you know. I've had colleagues who have been subject to the dreaded crush, but they were kind to their students, most of them. Or they were strutting peacocks like Lockhart. But I know what kind of teacher I am, Miss Granger. And contrary to popular opinion, I am in possession of several mirrors. So it was a mystery for a time.

"And then I began to notice a pattern. Extremely clever girls, all of them. Eager students. And not unattractive, really, in the way that all young people aren't unattractive. The bloom of youth. When you're my age, you'll see it in a way you don't now. Whatever did these clever, clever children want with me, I wondered. Did they want to commune with my intellect? Was my esoteric potions knowledge a turn-on? I did entertain that possibility for a time: they were lonely, clever children, with no one to be their intellectual equal.

"But you see the problems with that theory. These children were _leaving_ Hogwarts, and they were, without exception, going on to brighter futures, many to apprentice with the brightest wizarding minds of our time. Just as you are. And of course, they didn't come to me for an intellectual conversation. They came to me wanting, in some version or other, sex.

"But they didn't _really _want sex at all. What they wanted, Miss Granger, what you want, is for me to _desire _you. You want power over me. You can't stand it that I never fawned over your intellect, validated your mental prowess. It's not enough that all your other teachers did so. It's not even enough that you have an Order of Merlin, that your face graces the Daily Prophet weekly. I am the male teacher who withheld attention, and thus I am the one you come to – with your body. No matter how clever our young witches, we still teach them somehow that it is to their bodies that wizards will ultimately submit. Never their minds.

"And so, in the interests of time, I will give you what you really want, in so far as I am able: you are a clever witch, Miss Granger. Your potions skills are, while at times lacking finesse, fairly advanced for your age. Is there something you'd like to say? Or are you merely opening your jaw for practice?"

"It may be I am beyond speech, sir."

"For now, Miss Granger, for now. I believe you are acquainted with my door?"

"Goodbye, sir. And good riddance."

"That's the spirit. We shan't meet again."


End file.
